Reflection
by IWillNotBeSilenced
Summary: Death by Nightlock. It doesn't seem so bad when my alternative is a sword through the neck. Though at Cato's hand, i'd expect something far more original. Foxface One-Shot


**A/N So I decided to write a Foxface oneshot. The reason I have decided this, is because I'm going to be playing Foxface in an abridged version of The Hunger Games over the summer. I reall wanted to get inside her head, and figure out what the Games were like for her. Please review! Enjoy!**

Kneeling in the damp grass beside the lake, I revel in the feeling of the cool water flowing down my throat, refreshing my entire body and awakening my weary senses.

Sitting back on my heels, I push the strands of hair that have fallen from the two tight spirals on the top of my head, away from my eyes. Glancing down, my eyes fall on the image of a familiar stranger captured in the iridescent surface of the lake.

This stranger is me.

I lean forwards to inspect my reflection more closely. My eyes, which have always been bright and alert, meet a grey, weary pair. My red hair is still shocking against my porcelain skin, but it has lost its original shine due to the two weeks I've spent in the arena.

I run a hand down my left cheek. Looking down, I observe the layer of grime now coating my fingers.

I sigh inwardly. Although I've never been as pretty as some of the girls back in Five, and certainly not as strikingly beautiful as Glimmer, or as exotic and mysterious as Clove, I've never looked so…_hopeless._

Neither have I been able to gain sponsors with energetic youthfulness like Rue; I can only dream of possessing the kind of forcefulness and skill that Cato has. No. My cunning and sheer speed are the only valuable traits that sponsors would even consider, as they are the sole reasons that I have made it this far.

Although I've reached the final four, I know deep down that there is no hope of me actually winning these Games.

Cato is here because of his superior strength and precise skill.

Katniss is here due to unwavering courage and determination.

The only reason Peeta is still alive is thanks to Katniss. The thought make my blood boil. That third place belongs to little Rue. She could've won these Games. She _should've _won these Games.

Then there is me. Why am I here? Because of my quick-witted intelligence. If I win, I'm likely to be sold to citizens of the Capitol for their entertainment. If I refuse, they will kill me, as there is no one left I love.

My mind travels back over the previous fortnight, back to the night before the Games.

_I go up onto the roof of the Training Centre, hoping that the busy, narrow-minded citizens of the thriving Capitol below me might put my restless thoughts at ease._

_I can hear voices. Shrinking back into the shadows, I pause. Peering tentively around the corner, I can see that the voices belong to Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark of Twelve._

_I should go. Clearly their heart-to-heart conversation is not for anyone but themselves. Turning, I prepare to leave the roof as silently as I arrived._

_Just as I start towards the stairs, I can't help but overhear Peeta's next words; "I wish I could think of a way to show the Capitol that they don't own me. That I'm not just a piece in there games. If I'm going to die, I want to still be me."_

I can hear movement in the bushes. It's the irregular gait of someone with a limp. Peeta.

I shoot under the nearest bush. He's alone; my guess is that Katniss is hunting, and he's come to gather edible plants and berries: his inconsistent steps would lack the necessary stealth required for hunting. He begins to pick handfuls of the small, purple, juicy-looking berries from the bush beside mine, placing them in his shirt.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat. That's nightlock. He'll be dead before they've even passed his lips.

A thought forms in the back of my mind, but quickly finds its way to the front, fighting to be acknowledged.

My intent gaze moves from Peeta down to the berries in his cupped hand.

Death by Nightlock. It doesn't seem so bad when my alternative is a sword through the neck. Though at Cato's hand, I'd expect something far more original.

Raising my eyes, I realise that the bush that I'm sat beneath also bears the deadly berries. Reaching into the green, diamond shaped leaves; I grab a handful of the fatal fruit. Pulling my hand back towards myself, I study the nightlock. A vivid violet- such a pretty colour for something so evil- easily mistaken for a blueberry or a blackcurrant. I tilt my hand slightly, letting the tiny berries roll around my palm.

I pause for a moment, forcing myself to think about what I'll leave behind when I die. Will I win these Games? No. Not unless Cato and Katniss slaughter each other, meaning Peeta will commit suicide: he can't be without Katniss. Ha. I've always been imaginative, but the chances of that scenario actually taking place are a million to one.

So what will I be throwing away?

My education. District Five's education system is far from perfect, but I still attained the highest marks of anyone in all of my classes. My family? Don't have one. Left an orphan at the age of two, I barely remember a thing about them. My best friend. Saea had been horrified when I'd reaped. She, of all people, needs me to come home. She _believed_ that I would. The thought of my closest friend, also orphaned at a painfully young age, left without anyone in the world makes my eyes blur with hot tears. Saea was my rock, my confident and my everything. I blink hard. I won't cry. I didn't cry when I was reaped and I certainly won't cry now. I'm stronger than that.

"_You're not like the others Finch. Don't let them break you."_

These are the words that come to me now. I vaguely recollect them being spoken by my older sister. I don't remember much about Swallow. She was fourteen when the power plant that she and my parents worked in exploded, killing them all. She's the only member of my family that I can remember.

All I've ever been able to recall about Swallow was the way her grey, laughing eyes- my eyes- sparkled. And how she always smelled of vanilla, mixed with the faint scent of coal dust.

I never knew who 'they' were. Though now, I'm almost sure that Swallow was referring to the Capitol.

I cast my eyes down to my outstretched hand once more. Just one berry. That's all it would take to cause my inevitable death.

I can hear the soft brush of footsteps on leaves advancing towards my hiding spot. Too gentle to be Cato; these are the footsteps of a hunter. Katniss.

It's now or never.

I tilt back my head and pour the whole handful of nightlock into my open mouth.

Gazing up at the cloudless blue sky, I feel strangely calm. I always imagined that I'd be scared when I died. Terrified even. But I refuse to let the Capitol change me. And as long as I love, they have control of me.

The absence of the paralyzing fear that I've always associated with death, allows a sly smile to play across my lips as the sweet juice explodes across my tongue.

Who's just a piece in their Games now?

**A/N Please review, I have no idea what you guys think and I would love to know!xxxx**


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